House Hippos
by PTGreat
Summary: A domestic slice of life look at Detective Grayson and his gargoyles.
1. Chapter 1

A clan of gargoyles suddenly appearing in Gotham was barely a blip on Detective Dick Grayson's weird radar. Better some medieval relics who had been cursed to remain stone for a thousand years, by Morgan le Fay no less, than Killer Croc on the rampage again. Babs, former girlfriend, always friend, and regular badass, agreed that the existence of Bruce and his small clan wasn't all that strange, but she thought Dick striking up a friendship with them was pushing the boundaries of sound judgment. His couch creaking ominously under the combined weight of Jason, Steph, and Tim while they watched Kitchen Nightmares, Dick figured she might even be right. The microwave beeped and he pulled the popcorn out, shaking the bag and pinching the corners as he headed back into the living room.

His place was a small studio but it had more amenities than the abandoned buildings Bruce tended to have them roost in. Dick handed the popcorn over to an eager Steph and sat himself down on the floor, only to have the Jason's strong talons reach under his arms and pull him up. Dick blew out a resigned breath for the fate of his couch and settled himself across them, a human throw blanket. Steph set the almost too hot popcorn on the small of his back. And coffee table apparently.

"I don't get it," Steph munched. "Why invite him to their restaurant if they're just gonna yell about how wrong he is?"

He folded his arms over Tim's firm green thigh to pillow his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Adds to the drama," Jason said, grabbing a handful of popcorn while petting Dick's leg with his other.

Dick supposed he should protest the casual familiarity with his person—the Babs in his head was raising an eyebrow—but it was nice. His soft humanness had been a strange draw to the Bat Clan from the moment Dick had met them, made all the more intriguing by Dick's lack of disgust for their persons. Even Bruce and Alfred, who were much more reserved than the younger three, would ruffle Dick's hair or clasp his shoulder. And, of course, there was Bruce's tendency to scoop Dick into his massive arms before taking to the air. Jason, Steph, and Tim got a bit huffy about that, something about hogging the human, and their discontent had devolved into an unannounced competition of who could grab Dick first. Almost a full foot shorter than Dick's five feet ten inches, it tended towards the awkward and ridiculous when Tim won. Generally though, Jason beat the others to the punch.

"Yeah. I guess it would be pretty boring if nobody bleeped," she poked Dick in the ribs. "Why don't you make that noise when you're angry?"

Dick swatted her claws away good naturedly and twisted to look at her.

"Probably because people don't actually make it."

"The picture box begs to differ."

"Television," Tim corrected.

"Whatever," Steph tossed her long blonde curls over her violet shoulder.

Dick looked from Steph to Tim then Jason, his brow furrowed.

"Are you changing colors?"

Steph cocked her head, "What?"

"When we met, you were purple but now you look more…eggplant. You all seem darker. And what happened to the green on Jason's wings?"

They stared at him like he was thick in the head.

"Yeah," Tim said slowly. "We're nearing the end of adolescence."

Dick blinked, "Oh."

While Dick could freely admit, to himself, that he usually thought of them in terms of teenagers, he hadn't realized they actually were at least in gargoyle years. He still hadn't quite figured out how their aging compared to the average human. He assumed their lifespans were longer but seeing as they'd been temporally displaced by a curse after losing most of their clan, Dick wasn't going to bring it up just to satisfy his curiosity.

"Well, uh. You guys look nice."

Steph beamed, "Thanks!" and admired the tone of her arms. "I think so too."

Jason scoffed lightly and turned his head away at the compliment—but Dick was fairly certain that was a flush deepening the rust of his cheeks—while Tim didn't respond, more interested in haranguing Steph's enthusiasm for herself with pokes and verbal jabs. Steph squealed in protest and smacked her rookery brother in the face with a wing. Dick covered his head with one arm and eeped, not minding the tail Jason wrapped around his waist to help pull him out of the fray just before it really got going. With a small battle cry Steph launched herself at Tim. Dick winced at the hard thump they made hitting the floor.

"I hope your downstairs neighbors are out," Jason deadpanned.

Dick leaned back against the couch arm, seated safely on the far side of the couch and Jason's crossed legs, and watched them wrestle, snarling and growling like oversized puppies.

"Yeah," he agreed ruefully. "I'd rather not have the building's superintendent knocking on my door again."

Steph gained the upper hand with gleeful laughter and Tim squawking and struggling beneath her, while Jason casually increased the volume and turned his attention back to the TV. He loosened and tightened his tail around Dick's waist periodically, firm and comfortable, and Dick let himself settle again, a fond smile curving his mouth. He could think of worse things than dealing with Mrs. Kwan's grumpy demeanor while he gave her another bogus story.


	2. Chapter 2

Dark violet talons clasped together and Bambi eyes out in force, Steph leaned into Dick's space, "Please, please, please!"

Still in boxers and a threadbare Superman t-shirt, Dick rubbed at his eyes with one hand, groggy and not sure why he'd been cornered just outside of his bedroom by a pleading gargoyle. He glanced confused out the window, the sun so freshly set over the horizon that the sky had yet to lose its shades of sherbet and lavender.

"Buh?"

"I'd take Cass myself but the baristas always freak out and I kinda maybe spent the rest of my money on pumpkin waffles and real maple syrup, real maple syrup, Dick!"

"Um…"

Dick glanced around Steph where Cass shifted awkwardly, dark, dark wings wrapped around her shoulders, the faint striation of blacks that aided her so well in disappearing into the shadows, catching prettily in the quickly fading light. He ran both hands through his hair, a bit crunchy from the gel he'd used last night before his long, long shift at the precinct.

"I think I missed something," Dick groaned.

Cass drew a circle with her foot and stared at the floor, the carpet worn and a bit discolored, her dark cheeks vaguely ruddy.

"There is a coffee drink? A pump," she nibbled her bottom lip thoughtfully, "-kin. Spice. La-tte."

She glanced at Steph, who nodded eagerly, and brightened for it.

"Oh," Dick blinked. "Yeah. Okay. We can do that."

Steph swept him up into her arms and twirled him around, beaming like a thousand watt light bulb, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Dick laughed and patted her head.

"Just, just let me put on some actual clothes first."

Steph, her eyes alight with mischief, wrinkled her nose and set him down, "A shower too."

Sticking his tongue out, Dick swatted at her as he retreated to the bedroom for more appropriate street wear and—he sniffed under his arm and grimaced—yeah a shower.


End file.
